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Page 337
at the other. Ian settled his tilting helm over his mail hood and touched his now-docile mount with his heel to ride forward and take the lance Owain was offering. He fewtered it and watched Arundel do the same through the eye slits. The trumpets blew again. The heralds cleared the field. Ian eased his rein and touched his horse with the spur. Eagerly it leapt forward.
The impact of Arundel's spear on his shield was minimal. It, as his own, was deliberately ill-aimed and slid off easily over his shoulder. The horses pounded past each other, slowed, turned, and trotted back to their positions. The second and third passes were identical. Conversation in the loges was hardly interrupted. This was the formal opening of the tourney, and everyone knew that neither man had the smallest intention of unseating the other. The only thing that could have altered the result was if one of the horses had been clumsy and slipped on the dry grass.
Formally, the heralds announced no result, offered another three passes if a conclusion was desired. Formally, Ian and Arundel declined, saluted each other, and rode back out of the lists. Two young and inexperienced knights took their places. Ian lifted off his helmet, rested it against his saddle, and watched with mild interest. He would need three new castellans for Adam's property, as soon as he ousted the three who had not come to do homage. He had one man in mind, but if he saw a young knight of unusual promise, he might use him in the fight to regain the keeps and then, if the man was as good in battle as in the tourney, give him one of the smaller castles to hold.
The first two were useless. One did throw the other, but Ian shook his head in disgust. He would never have permitted so ill-trained a squire to be knighted. He was sure the stroke was luck on one side and sheer inability on the other. Owain, he thought, could do as well. Another pair came forward. One was a little better. He

 
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